Cabo San Lucas

The entry to Cabo is always lovely. First we passed the long strand of empty beach slowly being turned into resort playgrounds with Flipper and friends as guides. Next the left hand turn past Los Arcos,

Â Lovers Beach,

and then to anchor off the port area

filled with boats, ranging from not much more than a row boat to huge yachts.

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There was no wait for the tender, and we headed in.Â

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Years ago, when we first came here there were dirt streets. Now multi million dollar condos provide a backdrop as you walk from the tender dock to town, and upscale shops are developing in the port area itself.

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Â Soon there will be no need, unless you are short a serape, to go to town at all.

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It’s a lovely walk, made more interesting as we watched two mimes standing completely motionless.

Â We watched for a bit, saw not a palpitation and I dropped a dollar in their coffee can. They immediately broke pose and shook my hand.

Â It took a while to get the silver off.

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Our first stop, as always, was Senor Greenberg’s Mexicatessen. It was gone! It is now Cabo Coffee.

Swallowing that disappointment, I had another quest. We always bring Listerine with us, and somewhere at home on the floor of the closet, just outside the “this is what we’re packing” circle, are three bottles of green. So my job was to find a Pharmacy.

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Michael’s job, if she accepted it was to look for earrings. She accepted it.

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Being Sunday, and with only one ship in port, the town was almost empty. I tried a few Farmacias and learned that the sign “Abierto” meant open — or closed. Just beyond a flea market with no fleas,

Â I saw a Pharmacy with the door open. No tricky signs here.

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I went in and found four small bottles of Listerine, $4.40 each. The solitary clerk in his late twenties asked if I had cash. I did, but to get to my pocket, I had to untie my camera from my wrist. Putting the camera down, we finished the transaction and I was off to find Michael.

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Since I am never sure where she told me she’d be, and so many of the jewelry stores, the sun reflecting off the cheap silver in the windows, look alike, I called her on my cell. 13 numbers dialed, hums and buzzes as the signal went from the cobblestone street up Baja to Santa Clarita, California and back again to Michael’s phoneâ€¦.eight feet away. She had just come out of the store next to me.

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Suddenly, as she handed me the bag with a pair of new Crocs she had bought, I realized my camera was still at the pharmacy, about 50 yards away. I dashed back, did not see my camera on the counter and asked the clerk if he had it.

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“What camera?” he said. “I didn’t see a camera.”

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“Yes, you did'” I said. “It was right next to your register.”

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“Oh,” he said, “a man came in and got it.”

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“I don’t believe that”, I said.

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“He said his wife left it.”

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“She didn’t.” I said. “How long ago was that?”

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“About 30 minutes ago.”

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“I was here less than 10 minutes ago.” I said. “What you are telling me did not happen,”

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“I don’t know.” he shrugged, and actually pulled his laptop out of my reach.

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I went out and reported this to Michael who drifted into the jewelry store adjacent to the pharmacy.

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In front of the pharmacy was a bench. When I get really angry, my face can become kind of scary. My friends used to call it “the ray”. I sat and stared furiously at the clerk. He soon came out.

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“Is it really your camera,” he said.

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“Yes!” I growled.

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He led me inside and handed me the camera. But first, he made me identify at least one of the images on the screen. I showed him this one.

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So he, in his mind had proved that he was not a thief, but just protecting the camera until the “real” owner showed up. I thought he came really close to being a thief.

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A word about buying drugs in Mexico. It is illegal to buy drugs in Mexico without a prescription from a Mexican Dr. Most pharmacies pay no attention to this, even though there is always a Doctor’s office nearby. This law is only enforced if the Federales get bored, and would rather have you use your Vicodin money to bail yourself out. By the way, Vicodin is $20 a pill.

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Heading back to the ship we passed a stand set up with a lion cub in a small cage. For some pesos (to be donated to an animal charity), they would take your picture holding the cub against an African backdrop. Michael thought about getting a photo for the grandkids, but I was not pausing. Even though I had my camera, my rage was slow in subsiding.

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We rounded the last turn in the walk to the tender, and there it was, Senor Greenberg’s.

Â It was a lot different inside, but the Christmas tree with the bagels was still there.

Â It’s one of the few places in town that you can get milkshakes, smoothies and FREE Internet. Nachos and a Pacifica took care of the lingering anger.

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As we left, Michael spotted a Crystal Cruises ID card, without which you can’t get on the ship, on the ground, All ID cards have the owner’s photo and name. This belonged to a woman from Miami. Picked up, we kept the card out and Michael scanned faces. When we got to the first Security gate, a woman and two men were being escorted to the tender dock by a Security Officer. It was her. (ok,ok,”she”)

One of the men she was with had a great photo holding the lion cub. And a claw gash in his arm.

We were tired!

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It was nice to see the ship waiting, and knowing a nap was only ten floors away.

One Response to “Cabo San Lucas”

Clearly, Senor Goldberg has the rye stuff! Glad he wasn’t pushed out by coffee mania.

The pictures are great…lucky for us you actually were the owner of the camera, so that the guardian of public honesty and rectitude could be satisfied that the law was being upheld. No doubt “the ray” helped.